Page 19 of Love At the Gates of Hell (The Seven Sinners Trilogy #1)

eleven

Benny

Benny couldn’t sleep.

After what felt like an eternity of tossing and turning and burrowing underneath the comforter until she was nearly at the foot of the bed, she finally gave up and flung the covers off her body.

The loft was quiet. Though not nearly as quiet as the rest of the ride home from the quarry had been.

Benny had plopped herself in the passenger seat of Gideon’s precious Mustang while he stewed beside her, neither of them saying a word to each other.

But she had zero interest in attempting to continue their previous conversation.

It was Grade A Brat behavior.

Unbecoming of a grown ass woman, that was for sure.

But Gideon deserved it. Maybe.

Except he was right. It was an ambush. It was all she could think about as she tried to sleep.

If anything had happened to Cleo… She would have been responsible.

This was all happening because of Benny.

Because of her blood. Which was exactly why she couldn’t just stand by and watch everyone else go to bat for her.

She wouldn’t become a bystander in the fight for her own life.

She needed Gideon to understand that.

If he could just stop acting like such a sanctimonious prick…

Except for the moments he wasn’t.

The aspirin on the nightstand. How gentle he was in scraping the dried blood off of her arms. The way he handed her his pistol without a second thought, even when he wanted her as far away from the fight as possible.

Which somehow made her even more annoyed.

Pick a goddamn lane. Her brain couldn’t handle the whiplash.

She wrapped her arms around her body, wishing Cleo had thought to grab her something less embarrassing to wear to bed and not her matching Skateboarding Kitten pajama set.

She sighed. The whole reason Cleo got tailed at all was because she had risked getting Benny her things from her apartment.

So she was gonna have to be grateful for what she got.

And she was.

Both the grimoire and her laptop were now safely tucked away in the loft.

Benny stretched, a yawn passing through her lips as she made her way into the main room. It was dark, save for what seemed to be headlights streaming in through the windows, the shadows shifting with the highway traffic.

Shadows that splayed across a sleeping Gideon’s form, his body strewn across the leather sofa, a pillow tucked beneath his head.

She stopped in her tracks when she noticed him, tilting her head as she caught sight of the book laying across his chest, one hand still pressed to the binding, the other hanging off the edge of the cushion.

It was that fucking book, A History of Witchcraft.

She felt a soft breath pass through her lips.

It was the first time she’d seen him out of a suit.

His gray sweatpants stretched across his thighs, and the white T-shirt he wore had allowed just the hint of a tattoo on his chest to peek through.

She pivoted toward the kitchen, feeling as if she had just intruded on a version of Gideon he didn’t like most people to see.

Especially when he was sleeping on a couch so that she could have his bedroom.

Had she asked him last night to share?

She groaned inwardly at the recollection.

Benny would get her glass of water and then go back to bed and not at all lay there thinking about what that tattoo was or the way his T-shirt fit a little too snug across his broad chest. Which of course created another problem for Benny.

Because as she lingered in front of the cabinets, she couldn’t remember which one held the glasses.

She bit down on her bottom lip as she gingerly opened each cabinet door, trying to figure out which one had what she was looking for.

Plates. Bowls. Lucky Charms cereal?

“Are you trying to case the joint?”

Benny jumped, accidentally slamming the cabinet shut.

She winced at the sound as she slowly turned around.

Gideon was sitting up now, one elbow resting on his knee as he raked a hand over his face.

His dark hair was a little mussed from sleep, and his eyes were heavy.

But there was a glimmer of amusement behind them.

Was that a smile?

“Sorry,” she winced. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“I’m a light sleeper,” he said before yawning. “Glasses are on the right.”

“Right. Thanks.”

And Benny found exactly that in a small cabinet beside the refrigerator.

A perfectly smart place to put them and not at all a cabinet she had checked.

She grabbed two glasses from off the shelf and filled them with water from the filter as Gideon slowly padded his way barefoot across the living room.

She wasn’t blind. Gideon Crawford looked good in those perfectly tailored suits of his.

Too good, really. But this? This half-asleep, soft version of him?

Leaning against the island, watching her beneath those heavy-lidded eyes?

Absolute trouble.

But his movements were jerkier than normal, she noticed. Almost heavy and lumbering.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, his hand pressing against the countertop.

She shook her head.

“Weird day.”

His laughter was such a pleasant surprise after how they’d left things, she almost missed the wince lingering there, the way his weight shifted as he held onto the counter. Her smile faded as she moved toward him, guilt and concern prickling her skin. Had something happened at the quarry?

“You’re hurt,” she said. “Where?”

He waved his free hand, “No, it’s nothing.”

“You’re holding onto the counter for dear life,” she said. “Can I—I can fix it, you know. If you want.”

This laugh was more of a choke as he shifted, letting his body rest against the island, as if he was no longer putting on airs on her account.

She stepped back, her fingers pressing against her bottom lip as she let her eyes trail up and down his form.

She couldn’t see too much obvious bruising, save for a shallow cut on his cheekbone but there was a lot of surface covered by clothing.

Not like she could just ask him to strip down so she could play nurse.

The thought alone made her feel briefly insane.

“I’m fine,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sure it’ll feel better in the morning.”

“You’re hurt because of me. The least I can do is try and—”

“I’m hurt because I let a vampire sucker punch me,” he cut in. “Not because of anything you did.”

And yet, she still felt in her bones that it was all her fault.

“Gideon,” she started, her voice soft. She reached for his hand, her eyes catching the fresh cuts across his knuckles, the redness around them.

His skin was warm against her fingertips and his fingers flexed beneath her touch.

She felt the ghost of his thumb grazing her own, so gentle she wondered if she imagined it. “Let me do this for you. Please.”

He stared at her, his throat bobbing as he seemed to mull it over.

Then, “How does ‘this’ even work?”

“It’s magic, Crawford. I don’t think I could explain it to you if I tried.”

The sheer skepticism settling into his features made her laugh.

“Can I see?” she asked.

He hesitated for only a moment before he pulled up the hem of his T-shirt, just high enough to expose the large, mottled bruise on the left side of his abdomen. A very toned, tanned abdomen that led into a deep V beneath the waistband of the sweatpants slung low on his hips.

“Right,” she said, nodding her head.

She flexed her fingers at her sides, wondering what had gotten into her.

She’d seen plenty of men shirtless before.

He wasn’t even fully shirtless. He was a few inches of exposed skin level of shirtless.

What was this? The Regency era? An old timey movie where a woman could knock a man out with a sliver of her ankle?

“I—I have to touch you to do this, Gideon. Is that okay?”

His eyes fluttered shut and Benny was about to rescind her offer when—

“Yes,” he said. “Please.”

Please.

She breathed in as she took another step toward him, her hand hovering near his abdomen.

Healing magic could be clinical. All the Healers her father employed were hardly precious about their work.

But right now, here, Benny touched him with tenderness.

He had gotten hurt to protect her, to keep her from being taken again. How could she not want to fix that?

She could feel his gaze on her, his body tensing as her palm hovered near his skin.

She needed to feel the wound first, to see what it was that needed mending.

Her ability to heal allowed her to almost see beneath the surface, to feel what needed fixing.

A faint glow emitted from her hand, the light illuminating the bruising, showing Benny just how bad the impact had been.

Her face screwed up in concern as she tried to bite back her gasp.

She could feel the way his body was struggling.

“You should have told me,” she said, as she pressed her hand now firmly against the bruise. “I can’t believe you’re even standing up straight.”

“I didn’t think it was that bad,” he huffed with a terse chuckle.

“Okay, tough guy.”

He let out a soft grunt as she pushed into the bruise, her magic beginning its work. She felt terrible, knowing she was responsible for this. Knowing he was sitting with this while she spent the entire car ride icing him out.

She was an absolute idiot.

“Listen, Gideon, about earlier—”

“No, that’s on me,” he said firmly, interrupting her. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that.”

Her brows furrowed as she considered him, her lips twitching as she realized he was being sincere. Gideon Crawford was apologizing to her.